


A Place To Land

by BartonStark (BloodEnvy)



Series: Safety Net [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Couch Cuddles, Couch Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:00:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22158217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodEnvy/pseuds/BartonStark
Summary: You and Clint return to your apartment after the events of Age of Ultron, and you finally fulfill your promise to let him lay back while you do "all the work".Sequel to Safety Net. but can be read as a seperate story.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Original Character(s), Clint Barton/Original Female Character(s), Clint Barton/Reader
Series: Safety Net [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594948
Comments: 1
Kudos: 65





	A Place To Land

“How one dog produces so much drool I’ll never know,” you said affectionately, hands buried in the fur around Lucky’s neck, fingers scratching him into relaxation. You were lying on the couch with you head propped up on the arm and Lucky piled on top of you. His tail wagged lazily between your knees, battering lightly against your bare skin. The weight of the Labrador was beginning to border on uncomfortable, but you were enjoying the moment of domesticity too much to care. It was just past two in the afternoon and the blinds were drawn, casting the room in a relaxing shadow. “Y’know, buddy, at some point you’re going to have to accept that you’re too big to be a lapdog anymore.”

Lucky whined, and you kissed his nose by way of apology. A laugh bubbled through you when he licked your chin in response.

“Well, it finally happened. I’m actually jealous of the dog.”

You broke into a grin as Clint leaned over the back of the couch, reaching down to scratch behind Lucky’s ear. He’d been asleep for almost twenty-six hours; the two of you had crashed as soon as you’d gotten back to the apartment. Lucky had been dropped off by Kate before you’d arrived and after calming him down you’d both stripped off your mission gear and passed out. Lucky had been more than happy to flop down on the end of the bed, and you hadn’t woken up until he’d scratched at the door for a trip out to the sidewalk.

You’d left Clint to sleep, still mindful of old injuries and now the new.

“You’re up.”

“And you’re gorgeous,” he replied with a soft, lop-sided smile, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss you. He was shirtless but had taken the time to pull on a pair of sweats over his boxer briefs. The kiss was barely a brush of his lips on yours before Lucky pushed his nose between the two of you to give Clint one of his own. Your partner pulled away with a grimace, wiping his chin. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Let’s try that again,” you laughed, pushing Lucky gently off your lap to sit up. He let out a groan of complaint, hopping off the couch to curl up on the dog bed in the corner. You wrapped an arm around Clint’s neck, your hand clinging to his shoulder. You pulled him down to kiss him again and he grinned against your mouth, his free hand sliding into the hair by your temple. His thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, nose bumping affectionately against yours. He pressed a kiss to the top of your nose as you broke apart, and you wrinkled it playfully in response.

“So, who’s a better kisser, me or Lucky?”

Clint scoffed. “You’re the one cuddling up to him on the couch while I’m asleep.”

“Can you blame me? Look at that face!” you opened your arms as Clint climbed over the back of the couch to land between your legs, pulling him back against your chest. He leaned his head on your shoulder, and you pressed your lips to his hair. He sighed, fingers sliding over yours. “Besides, he was winking at me.”

“He’s always winking. At everyone.” Clint pointed out in amusement.

“What a flirt.”

“He’s a heartbreaker, alright.” Clint snorted, nodding over to Lucky, who currently had his face buried in his own privates.

You rested your cheek against the top of his head. “Hey, now that the team know about him – and us – can we finally complete the master plan?”

“Is that the one where you take him to Stark’s annual Halloween party wearing an eyepatch and tell everyone he’s Fury?”

“Yup.”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Excellent.” you said, tenting your fingers in front of the two of you.

“I can’t believe I live with such a huge dork.”

“Wait ‘til you remember you’re doing her too,” you joked, sobering slightly as Clint winced as he laughed. You ghosted your fingers through his hair, mindful of any hidden bumps or bruises. “Hey, how’re you feeling?”

“’m fine,” he shrugged, eyes closed. “Bit of headache.”

You gently turned his head to face you, raising an eyebrow when he finally opened his eyes. He hadn’t talked much about what had happened while you were in Sokovia, but you knew it was taking a toll. You’d found him on an evac boat, passed out next to the Maximoff boy, his hands bloody. “Clint.”

He smiled wanly, turning your hands over in his. He leaned up to kiss your cheek. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

“If I had been there—”

“Hey, no.” Clint said firmly, his fingers tightening around yours. “You can’t do that. You can’t be there all the time.”

“Then you don’t do it either.”

Clint exhaled through his nose before he kissed you again. He lay his head back against your shoulder. “Agreed.”

“Good.”

“How long you been awake?”

“I don’t know… five, maybe six hours.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

You shrugged the shoulder he was leaning on. “You were tired. There’s coffee in the pot.”

“You’re an angel.”

“Mmm… you’re just easy to please,” you teased, humming in delight as Clint arched his neck and kissed you again. “Fresh coffee in the pot… a frozen pizza waiting to be put in the oven… and my—”

You broke off as Clint reached back to cup your face in his hand, and you shifted underneath him to kiss him more easily. His fingertips slid down the side of your throat, his lips quickly ardent and yearning against yours. You slipped your tongue into his mouth as his lips parted, your fingers still tangled with his other hand. Teasing his bottom lip with a light graze of your teeth as you parted to breathe, you exhaled shakily at the heady rush that always came with his kiss.

Clint took the opportunity to sit up, turning around to kneel between your legs. He faced you properly, smiling warmly before he leaned in to kiss you again, taking your face in his hands.

You touched his chest lightly, your other hand sliding along his bare arm and tracing the shape of his bicep idly. Smoothing your fingertips over his shoulder, letting your touch linger there for a moment before moving to his hair. You gripped a handful at the nape of his neck and gave it a gentle tug.

The archer faltered for a second, breaking away to press his forehead to yours. He let out a long exhale, chuckling. “That’s cheating.”

You grinned, massaging your fingers over his scalp. His eyes closed at the touch. “You started it.”

He laughed, lips meeting yours again as his hand moved to your thigh. Clint took a firm hold of it and hooked it up over his hip. Taking his lead, you wrapped an arm around his neck, your tongue sliding against his as you urged him closer to you. He took hold of your other hand, leading it down to the waistband of his sweats. You tugged the drawstring undone; you could feel his growing excitement under your palm.

You gave him a playful squeeze before breaking away, smirking and covering his mouth with your hand when he tried to follow you.

“What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Barton?”

His answer was muffled against your palm, but his raised eyebrow spoke volumes.

“Didn’t we have a deal here, Hawkeye?” you asked, pushing him back with your free hand. Guiding him back to sit normally, you slung a leg over his thigh and straddled his lap. Pushing your hair back behind your shoulder, you bent down to press open-mouthed kisses to the side of his throat. Clint moaned, low in his throat, as you lingered at his pulse point before pulling back, giving him a quick, playful peck. You’re supposed to lay back and let me do all the work, remember?”

Clint’s eyes darkened and you felt him harden beneath you, pressing deliciously against your cunt. He took hold of your waist, fingers bunching in your shirt. “Who am I to argue with the Unbreakable Barricade? Have your way with me, baby.” He looked over your shoulder. “Lucky? Private time.”

The dog huffed in response, but still stood and trotted slowly off to the kitchen.

“There’s a good boy.”

“I don’t know if it’s sad or impressive that you’ve managed to train our dog for this,” you snickered, shaking your head at him as you pulled your shirt off over your head. You tossed it to the floor, watching Clint’s eyes flicker briefly to your breasts for a moment. His fingers flexed on your waist, the heat of his gaze sending a vibration up your spine. His eyes returned to your face, darkening with lust, before you captured his lips again.

Clint’s kiss was wonderfully harsh and wanting; his hands reclaiming the now bare skin of your hips, fingertips sliding to graze at the thin cotton waistband of your underwear. You ran your fingers slowly through his hair as you trailed your lips along his jaw. A hum vibrated through his chest at your touch; and you smiled into the kiss. A touch to his hair – a pull, a brush, a graze of your fingernails on his scalp – and he would just melt for you.

Hands moving down to grip his shoulders, you let your lips linger long enough to suck a bruise just below his ear. Clint exhaled, his breath tickling your ear as his head fell back against the couch.

“Christ, baby…” he groaned quietly as you rolled your hips slowly down onto him, sliding yourself along the length of him. Even through the soft, well-worn material of his sweats and the cotton of your underwear it was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help the shuddering breath you released in response. You tightened your hands on his shoulders, leaning back slightly to deepen the angle and grind harder down onto him.

One of Clint’s hands moved to the small of your back to brace you, his fingertips slipping under the waistband of your underwear. His hips rose underneath you, pressing him against you, a groan rumbling through his chest and you wet your lips, hungry for him. His other hand moved from your hip to slide down to your knee and back up, tickling the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

His words were almost a prayer; he was enraptured, sinking deeper into the intoxication of lust. He ducked his head, breath tickling at your breasts for a moment before he breathed a curse, head falling back again.

“Mmm…” you sat back on his thighs, scraping fingernails teasingly down his stomach to the waistbands of his sweats and underwear. Tugging them down enough to reach in and wrap your fingers around his cock, you bit your lip. Already firm in your hand, Clint swore again, chuckling almost deliriously as you took up a slow pace, swiping your thumb over the head. His breath caught, and he groaned as he fisted your hair in one hand, smashing your lips to his. You bit his bottom lip playfully as you broke apart, your hand continuing its slow, torturous rhythm. “And what exactly did you miss, Clint?”

He grinned, half-amusement, half-pleasure, head tipping back as you lathed your tongue up the side of his throat before catching the lobe of his ear with your teeth. “This was pretty high on the list…”

You smirked, taking hold of his hand and leading it back to your waist. He smoothed his fingers over your back skin, his pace only faltering as your grip tightened slightly. You shuddered as his hand moved up to cup your breast, fingers catching your nipple briefly, tightly.

“Is that all I am to you, Clint Barton?” you taunted, curling your free hand in his hair. You pulled it hard enough to force his head back, and his hips jerked up into your hand in response. “A pair of hands?”

He grinned, bottom lip between his teeth. “Your mouth is better.”

“Subtle.” you laughed slowly climbing off his lap and coming to kneel between his knees. “You’re lucky I love you…”

Any response he was going to make died on his lips as you took him into your mouth, tongue curling comfortably around the underside of his cock.

“Holy, shit.” Clint ran a hand through his hair, the other moving to bunch in yours, not quite guiding your movements. He did urge you forward though, and you gagged slightly as the head of his cock met the back of your throat. You drew back, circling the tip with your tongue, your hand taking hold of the base of his cock again. “God, I love you.”

You leaned forward to press a kiss to his hipbone. His fingers stroked softly through your hair as you engulfed him in the warmth of your mouth again, your free hand gripping at his sweats. Clint’s hips rolled upwards in a slow, steady rhythm, pressing him deeper into your mouth. You grazed fingers over his stomach, teasing the downy line of hair beneath his navel. You traced the line of his hip bone, releasing him from your mouth.

Standing, you held Clint’s gaze as you slid your underwear down your legs, and his breath caught as you stepped out of them and settled yourself back on his lap. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you found his lips again, tongue slipping between them languidly. Clint’s hand slipped between your legs, two fingers sliding against your warmth.

“Ohhhh…” you gave a shaky sigh at the first touch to your clit, breaking away from his mouth with a whimper. Clint’s lips moved to your neck, teeth and tongue lingering at your pulse point. He didn’t bother to tease you, his own need too strong. He tortured you quick circles, your thighs quivering and your back curling, you whole body focused on the way his fingers made your stomach swoop. “Oh, fuck. Clint—”

Clint grinned against your throat and he moved his lips to your ear. “You missed me too, huh?”

You curled your fingers in his hair, your other hand gripping at his bicep. “Soooo much…”

“Yeah?” Clint whispered, pinching your clit lightly, you jerked against his hand. “How much?”

“This much,” you replied breathily, reaching down to take ahold of his cock. Corkscrewing your hips at an agonizing pace, you slid him inside of you. Clint’s fingers faltered on your clit, his teeth buried in your shoulder, so hard you were surprised he didn’t break skin. “ _Shit_.”

“Fuck me, Y/N…”

“What’d you think I’m doing?” you laughed headily, fingers tightening in his hair as you rode him. Clint moaned, eyes rolling back. His fingers were still circling your clit, his pace messy and uneven, and your thighs were slick with your own arousal. “Oh, god, you feel good.”

“I don’t know how long I’m gonna last, baby…” he warned you, his jaw tight. You couldn’t blame him – three weeks pretending you were nothing more than coworkers had left you both desperate and aching for this. He led your hand down between your thighs, urging you to play with your clit. You did so eagerly, moaning almost obnoxiously as he took hold of your hips and thrust hard up into you. His hands slipped around to the small of your back and he caressed the sweat-sheened skin they way he knew you liked before he found your backside. He gripped it so tightly you were sure there’d be bruises, and he spread the cheeks with his hands, still pounding up into you.

“Fuck, Clint… Oh, fuck…” You were clenching around him, your knuckles white as you pulled at his hair. Clint’s thumb slipped down to press against your asshole, and it was that pressure that sent you cresting over the edge, your whole body shaking and tightening and falling to pieces as you came. Clint clung to you, his hands on your hips, your back, your thighs.

His lips tasted your chest, lingering at your collarbone, and he lifted you by your thighs, turning to lay you out on the couch. He hooked your ankle over the back of the couch; he pressed kisses along it, lingering as he reached your thigh, his hand teasing you as your body continued to shudder. His eyes stayed on yours, hungry and dark, and he bit his lip as he grinned, settling himself between your legs.

The first touch of his tongue to your clit had you jerking beneath him, and Clint smiled against your come-slick skin, spreading a possessive hand over your stomach to hold you in place. He buried his face in your cunt, reveling in every sound you made in response. You clung to his hair with both hands, hips rising up off of the cushion. “Clint…”

He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your thigh before sliding up your body and sliding himself into you again, face buried in your neck. You were so close, so ready, and he knew it. He didn’t pause, didn’t wait for you to adjust. His hips slammed into yours, teeth in your throat and one hand pawing at your breast. You whined, beyond words, beyond thought. You wrapped your legs around his waist tightly, urging him closer still.

“Beg for it, baby.” Clint whispered in your ear. His voice was tight; he was so close to the edge. You leaned up to kiss him, teeth catching on his bottom lip. “I wanna hear you say ‘please’.”

It was endearing, that he was trying so hard to hold back, and your own orgasm was beckoning, so you didn’t argue or tease. Instead, you arched up against him, fingers in his hair and the other hand clutching at his back, your mouth brushing against his as you whispered your plea, the words breaking into a moan. “Please, Clint… _please…_ ”

His voice joined yours, his hips pushing flush against yours as he came, his lips on yours in a feverish kiss. He cupped your face in his hand, a thumb brushing against your cheek as the two of you came down. He chuckled deliriously as he slipped himself out of you, giving the side of your ass a playful, appreciative smack as he did.

“Ow! You fuck.” you complained despite your smile, letting Clint collapse half on top of you, his arm draped over your middle. He smacked a noisy, childish kiss to your shoulder by way of retort. “God, it’s good to be home.”

“I’m never leaving again.” he said, his voice muffled by your skin.

“Cap wants us back with the team as soon as Tony’s legal whatevers finish convincing the government to let… uh…”

“Wanda.”

“Right. Let Wanda stay in the country.”

He groaned, petulant and tired. “Fine. But we’re not leaving this couch ‘til then.”

“Not even to get an extra large pepperoni and olive from Louie’s?” you asked teasingly. Frozen pizza just wasn’t going to cut it.

Clint huffed, smooshing his face further into the curve of your neck. His breath tickled your skin. He fumbled for your phone on the table blindly, tossing it into your lap. You rolled your eyes in good humor, pulling up your contacts. The two of you – well, mostly Clint – ordered from Louie’s at least twice a week. It was only two blocks away, and you were pretty sure that was what sold Clint on the apartment. It _was_ the best pizza in the Bronx. As a result, their number was in your frequent calls list. “He’ll deliver.”

“Special Avenger treatment?”

“Frequent customer benefits.”

“Ah.” you smiled, running your fingers through his hair gently. It was soft and damp with sweat, and he mumbled a soft, relaxed moan at the touch. “How about you go jump in the shower, and I’ll be in in a sec. I’ll order and we can eat in bed.”

Clint gave a long, dramatic groan as he pushed himself up, stealing a quick kiss. “You’re perfect.”

You grinned as he stood, laughing as he let the clothes still bunched around his thighs fall to the floor. He stepped out of them and gave you a wink, heading off for the stairs.

“I’m ordering eggplant on mine,” you called after him, phone to your ear.

“Did I say perfect?” you could hear him scoff as he headed up the stairs, and he laughed loudly as the pillow you threw after him bounced off his back.


End file.
